The Bedding Proposal

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “Do you have any pets?” she’d asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound as strained to him as it did to her.

  He glanced up, Hera still purring happily beneath his hand. “Not here in London, no. But my little sister, Esme, keeps a veritable menagerie of animals at Braebourne, so I get my fill of furry company whenever I go back to visit.

  “I’ve considered getting a dog,” he said as Hera gave a contented little meow, then moved away to jump into her chair near the fireplace. “Perhaps there will be a likely puppy in need of a home when I go for the Christmas holidays.”

  “I hope so. Animals are wonderful company and they are never cruel or deceitful. Be kind to them and they will be kind back. If only people were so admirable in their dealings, just think how much better the world would be.”

  He’d gazed at her then, a thoughtful expression in his eyes.

  Luckily, the maid had chosen that moment to knock, entering the room with her hot brandied milk and ending their conversation.

  Drifting sleepily now, Thalia lay with her eyes closed, knowing she would need to bid Lord Leo good night soon. Her lady’s maid should be able to help her limp into her bedchamber once he had gone. She would ask him to ring for her in a minute.

  The next thing she knew was the sensation of two strong arms sliding beneath her. I must have dozed off, she realized. “Leo?”

  “Keep sleeping,” he murmured in a voice as rich and smooth as the hot toddy she’d drunk. His arms tightened as he began to lift her.

  “I can manage—”

  “Not without difficulty. Now just relax.” He straightened, cradling her securely against him.

  “But your injury—”

  “Is fine. Barely a twinge.”

  There was a slight edge to his words that made her suspect he was playing down his discomfort, but then he was carrying her and she was simply too tired to resist. Besides, it was lovely being held this way—much more than it had any right to be.

  Closing her eyes, she pressed her cheek against the soft wool of his coat and breathed him in, catching traces of linen starch, citrus and a clean, male scent uniquely his own.

  Another warm blaze burned in her bedroom fireplace, the sheets and counterpane already turned down on her bed. Leo carried her across the room and laid her carefully onto the mattress.

  She sank against the feather tick, her head cradled by a pair of fluffy pillows so soft that she nearly sighed aloud with contentment.

  Seconds later, that contentment disappeared, her eyelids popping open as she felt his hand slide beneath the hem of her nightgown and around the bare skin of her calf.

  Her gaze locked with his.

  “Just settling your ankle on the bolster your maid prepared,” he said in way of explanation. “You still have a fair amount of swelling. This should help.”

  My ankle.

  Between the liquor and the relaxation, she’d nearly forgotten about the sprain. Or had the pain dulled because of Lord Leopold? Because he’d driven it temporarily from her mind by the sheer force of his presence?

  Her pulse drummed with a deep, visceral beat when she felt his hand lie still against her calf, even though he had finished arranging her foot on the pillows.

  “Comfortable?” he asked.

  “Enough,” she said, willing her heart to slow. Instead it sped faster.

  “Do you require anything further? A glass of water, perhaps? Or an extra blanket?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing.”

  “I suppose I should be going.”

  “Yes, I suppose you should,” she said, suddenly breathless.

  Yet he made no move to leave and she did nothing to make him.

  “I’ll say good night, then. I know you need to rest.”

  Her lips parted. “I do.”

  He lifted his palm from her leg; she instantly felt the loss, foolish as it might seem to feel that way.

  Without a word, he pulled the covers over her and tucked them in snugly. But rather than step away, he moved closer. Planting a hand on either side of her, he bent near. “I’d stay, if you weren’t hurt.”

  She studied him intently. “If I weren’t hurt,” she said in a near whisper, “I just might let you.”

  A light flared deep in his eyes.

  She swallowed, wondering what had come over her tonight. Had she really meant to say that? Or was it the brandy talking?

  But she supposed she must have meant it, since she’d let Leo past her bedroom door. Injured or not, she could have stopped him if she’d really wished to do so.

  “God, you make it hard to go,” Leo said, his powerful arms caging her between them. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for a good-night kiss. I’ll want more once you’re better.”

  And strangely, she thought she might too.

  Then he was kissing her, his mouth commanding and persuasive, seductive and eager, as he led her down a path of dark desire and sweeping surrender. But he sought more from her than acquiescence, demanded her full and unqualified response.

  Unthinkingly, she gave it, returning his kisses as he coaxed her lips apart and drew her deeper beneath his spell. His tongue circled hers in a slow, wet slide that made delicious shivers chase over her skin and heat spark like lightning in her system.

  It was as if she were caught inside a storm, dangerous need crashing inside her as he kissed her with an intensity she was helpless to resist. Blindly, she speared her fingers into his thick golden brown hair, the strands as soft as living silk beneath her touch.

  Her mind floated away with the force of her pleasure, making her wonder if this was real or if she was still asleep and dreaming instead.

  Then he was seated hip to hip with her on the bed, the bedclothes he’d so painstakingly tucked around her moments ago tossed to her knees. Before she quite knew how it had happened, the tie on her robe lay undone, the buttons on her nightgown unfastened, as he scattered hot, sultry kisses over her cheeks and jaw and along the sensitive length of her throat.

  Her fingers tightened in his hair as he moved lower, kissing his way over the flushed, tingling skin of her bare shoulders and chest before burying his face between her naked breasts.

  Wild tendrils of desire quivered through her, with want such as she had never known consuming her.

  He raised his head and met her gaze, his eyes burning with undisguised lust. “Madame, you are exquisite.”

  Without looking away, he dipped his head again and licked one of her pink nipples, circling the tip with a warm, wet stroke of his tongue. Then he blew softly, sending a gentle gust of air over her damp flesh to devastating effect before raking his teeth across her taut, aching peak.

  She shuddered, then shuddered again as he repeated the process, driving her half-mad as he licked and circled, blew and nibbled over and over again.

  Apparently not one to stint, he moved on to her other breast and played there with a leisurely thoroughness that bordered on torture. He teased her nipple with the same sinful magic he’d used before until she thought she might die from delight.

  Just when she was sure she couldn’t bear another moment of the emotions flooding through her, he cupped her breasts, cradling one in each wide palm, and began to feast in earnest. He hummed low in his throat, making sounds of decadent satisfaction as he opened his mouth and drew strongly upon her.

  The sweet suction radiated all the way to her toes, and even more strongly between her legs, where she was wet and aching with need. Gordon used to complain she was frigid and unresponsive; she didn’t feel frigid or unresponsive now.

  Still, Leo needed to stop. Already his embrace had spiraled far beyond the simple good-night kiss he’d promised. And far, far beyond her ability to control.

  Yet just as she was gathering herself to push him away, he leaned up and kissed her again, taking her mouth in a fervid joining that made the last of her good intentions drift off into the ether.

  He drew her down, deep where she couldn’t seem to find the surface anym
ore, where her senses ruled unopposed. His fingers stroked her sensitized breasts, while his lips roved in lazy forays across her mouth and nose, cheeks and forehead and chin.

  He traced his tongue along the edge of her ear, dipping in like a bee gathering nectar before nibbling just behind in a spot that made her quake. “Whatever you do, don’t move,” he whispered quietly.

  Her thoughts hazy, she could only nod, eager to see where he would go next.

  But it wasn’t his lips that sought new territory, rather one of his hands that stole soft as a shadow beneath her nightdress. Up he glided, over calf and knee, then across the tender length of her thigh. Higher and higher he roved, fingers gliding and caressing until he reached the V of her thighs, where he paused in search of an even more intimate caress.

  Her eyes flashed open and she laid a hand over his, the light wool of her nightgown bunched between them. “Lord Leo?”

  “Lady Thalia?” He smiled. “Though might I suggest a less formal term of address considering our present situation?”

  “Y-you need to stop,” she said.

  “Do I? Are you sure?” He claimed her mouth again, his kiss turning her feverish and dizzy once more.

  Below, he moved boldly to cover her mound, pressing the heel of his palm against her with a gentle yet devastating pressure. “Let me. Just don’t move. I don’t want anything to hurt.” He kissed her again. “At least nothing that won’t feel good later.”

  She trembled, wondering how she had come to such a pass. But then she didn’t have time to wonder any longer as his fingers teased her nether curls and found the dampness gathered there. He kissed her again and continued his quest, tenderly stroking and touching her in ways that made it more and more impossible to resist.

  She closed her eyes and searched for strength, fighting him, fighting herself.

  But it was a useless effort, her hunger too overwhelming to deny. With a sigh, she let her hand go lax as she silently gave him permission to do as he wished.

  Gently, he parted her thighs, shifting the knee of her good leg slightly upward so he could fit his hand fully between her legs. He teased her again, rubbing only the outer lips of her feminine core so that she grew even wetter, even more desperate. Her hands fisted at her sides as he continued his passionate assault, each stroke more wicked than the last.

  Voluntarily, she edged her thighs open wider and grabbed again for his hand—this time to pull him closer.

  “Touch me,” she begged.

  “I believe that’s what I’m doing.” He teased her down low again, making her arch against him.

  “Ah, ah,” he warned softly. “I told you not to move. Your ankle, remember?”

  But she hadn’t, she realized. She’d forgotten all about her sprain, his touch so enthralling it had driven everything else from her mind.

  She forced herself to lie still, biting her lip as she waited for him to continue.

  “Good girl,” he said. “I believe you deserve a reward.”

  Slowly, he opened her, parting her like the petals of a flower as he slipped inside. Delving steadily, he eased in one long finger, first to the knuckle, then as far as it would go.

  A cry burst from her lips as her inner muscles clenched around him in welcome.

  But even that wasn’t enough.

  She needed more. And he knew it—the devil.

  With a smile that rivaled Mephistopheles himself, he waited, watching as they both felt her body grow even slicker around him.

  He stirred his finger inside her, circling as he massaged her inner flesh in the most astonishing way. He slid his finger out, then in again to stroke her anew.

  Her nipples tightened, throbbing along with the rest of her. As if sensing their need, Leo reached out and took one bud between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed, ripples of half pleasure, half pain cascading through her as he fingered her harder between her thighs.

  Without warning, he added a second digit, filling her, stretching her so that she trembled and moaned.

  “Ah, God!” she cried, everything narrowing in that moment to the sensation of his fingers moving over her and in her. He pinched her nipple again, then fondled her breast. He did the same to her other breast as he continued stroking fast and deep inside her.

  Suddenly, he added his thumb below where her most sensitive flesh wept for his every touch and then she started to shake.

  Rivers of bliss poured through her, pleasure unlike any she had ever known coursing in rivulets through her veins. Her mind grew dull from the surfeit of delight.

  Then everything went utterly and completely black.

  * * *

  Leo watched Thalia take her release and thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  She is magnificent.

  Her skin was flushed and rosy, her lips parted on a sigh of blissful satisfaction, her eyes closed, lashes inky black against the creamy glow of her cheeks. She looked disheveled and well pleasured, and he should know, since he was the one who had pleasured her.

  As for him, his shaft was swollen and throbbing, aching to be as thoroughly appeased as she. But much as he wanted to unbutton his trousers and slide between her milky white thighs to take his ease, he knew she was in much too delicate a state to withstand such vigorous play. He’d pushed the limits as it was—her injured ankle somehow still miraculously tucked in its nest of plush pillows, apparently no worse for their amorous activities.

  For now, he needed to let her heal—let himself heal for that matter, since the stitches in his arm had been tugged and tested enough for one night.

  But this was only the beginning. And considering how long he’d already waited, he supposed he could wait a while longer. Especially now that he’d had a taste of her honey.

  Lord, she was sweet.

  And responsive.

  Though strangely, he had to wonder as he watched her doze lazily against the pillows, how sexually experienced she really was.

  She wasn’t a virgin, of course; that much was clear. Yet she’d seemed so surprised by her reactions to his touch, dawning amazement sweeping over her features as he’d carefully built her desire to greater and greater heights. It was as if tonight was the first time she’d ever truly been aroused. The first time she’d ever found real completion.

  If that was true, her former husband must have been a complete lout in the bedchamber. Then again, far too many men were dreadful lovers, concerned for nothing but their own selfish pleasure. When he made love to a woman, he always made sure she claimed as great a share of the satisfaction as he did himself.

  He’d lost his own virginity at sixteen to a very experienced, very adventurous widow who’d taught him well the importance of taking care of a bedmate’s needs. Increasing his lover’s pleasure, he’d learned, inevitably served to increase his own.

  He’d put those skills to excellent use in the years since he and his widow had gone their separate ways. He rarely thought of her now—she’d remarried and gone to India, last he’d heard—but he owed her a debt of gratitude for tutoring him so expertly.

  Perhaps she was the reason he still preferred older women?

  He studied Thalia again, her features ethereally lovely in repose.

  What a puzzle she was. A beautiful, mysterious conundrum that demanded to be solved. The longer he knew her, the less about her he really understood.

  “Who are you, Thalia?” he whispered, reaching out to brush a wisp of dark hair off her cheek.

  She sighed and rolled her head toward him, still asleep.

  He wished he could strip off his clothes and climb into the bed beside her. But tonight was not the night.

  Soon.

  Very soon he would come to her bed, now that they were lovers. And she would find herself satisfied again—well and often.

  With gentle efficiency, he smoothed her nightgown down her legs and buttoned her bodice over the glorious breasts he had so enjoyed kissing and fondling. His fingers slowed briefly as he forced himsel
f to fasten the last one before all his good intentions turned to dust.

  He stood and reached for the bedclothes, pulling them up to her chin to tuck her in once more. Bending low, he brushed a soft kiss over her lips.

  “Leo? Is that you?” she murmured, stirring beneath the sheets.

  “Yes.” He stroked his hand over her hair. “Sleep. I shall see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” she repeated sleepily, her eyelids already drifting closed again.

  Smiling, he allowed himself one last look, then turned and left.

  Chapter 16

  Thalia awakened the next morning with a smile on her face.

  She’d slept deeply. Peacefully. Better than she had in too long to remember.

  And the dreams.

  She’d had the most amazingly wonderful dreams. Lush and vivid and so intense they’d almost seemed real.

  Lord Leo had been in them, kissing her and doing all manner of other things that made the blood turn hot in her veins to remember. Things that made her imagination run wild even now.

  In response, her nipples tightened into hard peaks, feeling unusually sensitive as they rubbed against the fine wool of her nightgown. And between her legs came a languorous, liquid ache as if her flesh were reliving the delirious sensation of his fingers stroking her deep inside. Stroking her to a pleasure she’d never experienced before.

  Her eyes popped open. Good God, it hadn’t been a dream.

  Where was Lord Leo now?

  Was he still here?

  She sat up abruptly and looked around for him.

  As she did, a jab of pain shot through her injured ankle. “Oh,” she groaned, sinking back against the pillows again.

  Her ankle.

  She’d forgotten all about it, exactly as she had last night after Lord Leopold carried her to bed.

  She covered her eyes with her hands now as all the rest of the memories flooded back over her. So much for her firm resolve. One simple dinner in her sitting room and she’d been as malleable as clay, letting him touch her with an intimacy that had rocked her to her core.

  Despite all the supposed evidence to the contrary, she’d been with only one man in her life. Gordon. The husband who had used and manipulated her. Who had disgraced and ruined her with a cruelty she could scarcely bear to contemplate even now.